Graveyard
by Silvertikal
Summary: One shot AU after Bucky receives his deployment orders. Stucky. Rating for slightly dark themes. Now with a part 2 (yay, happy ending...eventually). Rating increased due to slightly explicit self harm.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N This is my first one-shot...ever. So please don't be too harsh. I was inspired by Halsey's song **_Graveyard_** for this. I may write another part to it if there's enough interest, but at the moment it's going to stay like this. I apologize that it's rather short- again, first one shot I've ever written, so constructive criticism would be wonderful. It's also my first published story for this fandom, though I got another one in the works.**

**Please R&R! :)**

**~Silver**

**Graveyard**

"Don't do anything stupid until I get back," Bucky said.

"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you," Steve retorted.

Bucky came closer, drawing Steve into a hug.

"You're a punk."

"Jerk," Steve replied as Bucky pulled away. When Bucky turned back, he was met with Steve's last words. "Don't win any wars until I get there."

Bucky saluted him with a tight expression before leaving. Steve swallowed thickly, tamping down on the rush of emotions running through him.

He took a deep breath, heading back to Dr. Erksine.

The weeks at Camp Lehigh were the toughest of Steve's life. Every day he was pushed through agonizing drills. Being the smallest of the men, he was regularly picked on by the other soldiers. After a particularly bad day, where he had struggled no less than three times going through the trenches, he stood under the cold spray of the shower. His hands clutched at the sides of the wall as his thoughts turned dark.

_Is this all worth it? What if Dr. Erksine was wrong? How am I supposed to be considered for the program when I can't even cross a trench without getting stuck? Bucky would probably laugh his ass off._

Steve's jaw clenched at the sudden thought of Bucky laughing at him. Even though the rational side of his brain told him he was being ridiculous, he kept imagining Bucky taunting him. He was slightly startled out of the dramatic thoughts when another couple of men entered the shower area, and he hastily made his exit after drying off with his towel wrapped around his waist.

The barracks were deserted, and Steve saw that there was another game night going on in the bunk next door. He dressed in loose pants and a white shirt, leaving his feet bare as he sat cross legged on his bed. Before he knew it, his thoughts had drifted back to Bucky.

_What makes you think you'll even see him again?_

_**Why wouldn't I? He promised.**_

_But that was before he could see how pathetic you are. Barely able to push through the drills. Colonel Phillips doesn't think highly of you. You saw his face when you got stuck the second time. Why would Bucky even look your way?_

_**He's my best bud. He's better than anyone else. Believes in me, in what I can become.**_

_He doesn't want to help you anymore. Why do you think he left? Got tired of taking care of your sorry ass._

_**He wants to serve our country. He had no choice in the timing of it all.**_

_You think he would have stayed if given a choice? Pulling you out of alley brawls since you can't say no to a fight? How many times has he dragged you home nearly unconscious?_

_**No. No, enough. Bucky wouldn't abandon me. If he were here he'd call me stupid for thinking these things.**_

Steve took a deep breath, pressing his hands to his eyes in an effort to stem the negative thoughts still coursing through his brain. Picking up his notebook, he began drawing the first thing that came to mind, which was of course Bucky. He closed his eyes every few seconds to concentrate on the mental image he had of his friend. Slowly, his mind calmed as he focused on the strokes of his pencil. When he was finished, he closed the notebook without really processing the final product and turned off the light, suddenly exhausted.

After Steve was injected with the super soldier serum, it seemed as if he never stopped for rest. Everyone always demanded his attention, especially once he began the shows for selling war bonds. He became incredibly well known around the world as Captain America, and it wasn't until he was called to do a show at one of the war camps that he realized that wasn't necessarily a good thing. The men he performed in front of knew the costs of war more than he ever had.

When he heard that the 107th, Bucky's unit, had been captured and were supposedly dead, a switch was ignited within him. He became frantic in his search for his best friend. Against Colonel Phllips orders, he staged a rescue mission on his own. He returned with the unit, becoming a true hero. Shortly after, Steve created the Howling Commandos to strategically and effectively take down Hydra bases.

"I'm invisible!" Bucky exclaimed as Peggy left the two men to mingle among the crowd.

"Nah, never invisible," Steve murmured. He watched Bucky's expression shift slightly before the easy smile was back.

"I guess you missed me, pal?" Bucky asked, plopping down onto the bar stool next to Steve.

"I couldn't leave my best bud out there, Buck," Steve replied, taking a sip of his drink. He felt lighter than he had in weeks, and it wasn't from the drink.

"Well, I'm grateful. Guess I should call you Captain now, huh?"

Steve's breath caught slightly as he saw the intensity in Bucky's eyes. He cleared his throat softly before responding.

"It comes with the territory, I suppose. Think the Commandos is a good idea?"

"I'm not following Captain America for that. The guy who stood up to bullies in back alleys, even though he got his ass kicked every time? I'm following him."

Steve smiled slightly at that, eyes catching Bucky's as he took another swig of his drink.

"You're keeping the outfit, though, right?"

Steve nearly choked on his drink at the heat he saw in Bucky's expressive eyes, before it faded as quickly as it came.

"Yeah, of course."

Bucky and Steve crashed in their hotel room, not paying attention to the fact that they collapsed onto the same bed. Though Steve couldn't get drunk as easily, he was worn out from the excitement of the night. They both merely kicked off their shoes and fell asleep.

Early the next morning, however, Steve awoke to Bucky securely entangled with him. One of Bucky's legs was draped across Steve's, and his face was burrowed into Steve's shoulder. Trying to keep his breathing even, his mind whirred as he thought of how to get up without waking Bucky. Unfortunately, he kept getting distracted by how _warm_ Bucky's body was around him, and how much he liked the weight of the other man atop him. A few moments passed while Steve was lost to his thoughts, and Bucky woke up with a small groan.

"Ugh. Steve?" Bucky's eyes fluttered open, arm tightening as he became aware of their position.

"Morning, Buck," Steve replied quietly. His eyes flicked across Bucky's face, thinking that he rather liked what he saw. Because his eyes were on Bucky's face, he didn't miss the slightly guarded expression that appeared. Bucky rolled onto his side, moving his leg from between Steve's, still facing him.

"You make a comfy pillow, now that you've gotten bigger," Bucky muttered as he burrowed back into Steve's chest. Sometime in the night Steve must have shucked the shirt off, since he was bare chested. Bucky began absentmindedly tracing patterns across Steve's skin, causing tingles in their wake. Steve became aware of how strange this situation was, and was about to pull away when Bucky suddenly moved up and hovered above his head.

"Don't hit me." The immediate question that sprung to mind was cut off when Bucky's lips snagged Steve's in a tentative kiss.

When Bucky began to pull away, though, Steve grabbed his face and deepened the kiss. Bucky clutched desperately at Steve's chest, moving to straddle the larger man.

Several minutes later, they panted as Bucky's forehead rested on Steve's. He shifted his weight off of Steve, making his way to the wardrobe in the room to grab a fresh set of clothes. Steve's eyes followed the movement until he rolled off of the bed himself.

"We going to talk about that?" Steve asked quietly.

Bucky didn't respond, quickly pulling on his clothes. He left the room after another moment, causing Steve to sigh softly before he followed suit.

Things proceeded in that matter for the next couple of months. The two would meet up in private and go their separate ways afterwards. Steve was thoroughly confused, but afraid to stop it because he loved Bucky and didn't want to lose him. After one of their rare meetings in a bed, Bucky did not leave right away. Steve didn't push his luck, simply holding the other man, until he spoke of his own accord.

"Sorry, Stevie. You've been asking. I wanna be your fella, but I also don't want to be kicked out of the army. I thought it'd be better if I tried to keep our friendship and whatever this is separate. But honestly? This is torture."

"You want to be my fella?" Steve whispered. At Bucky's jerky nod, his smile was big enough to split his face in two.

"I wanna be your fellow, too, Buck. Til the end of the line."

"Til the end of the line," Bucky echoed. He continued to trace patterns into Steve's skin for a few minutes.

"I forgive you. I wish you coulda been more honest from the start. I've been so confused, Buck."

"I know. I'm scared, Steve." Bucky's voice was quiet.

"Me too, Buck. We can do anything, as long as we're together."

"Together." Bucky's lips ghosted across Steve's skin for a few minutes until he had to leave.

When Bucky fell from the train, despite Steve's desperate attempts to catch him, he felt his heart shatter. He kept to his duties, but became reckless. When he found himself in front of the controls of the Valkerie, he pulled out his compass, where Peggy's picture rested. Bucky's was behind hers, but he couldn't bring himself to look at it. His last thought before plunging into the ocean was Bucky's face, coupled with the words: _Finally I can follow you to the graveyard._


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

**A/N Yeah, I wasn't originally going to do a second part, but the story wouldn't stop yapping at me, and then it stopped being as angst (though it still is). T/W for self harm.**

**Let me know what you think? :)**

Steve gradually awoke to the sounds of a baseball game playing on a radio, one he had seen with Bucky. As he looked around at the room, he nearly expected Bucky to come swaggering with his cocky smirk. Instead, a pretty woman came, hair done up in a style reminiscent of Peggy's, but her outfit was _wrong._ Tamping down a surge of panic, he questioned the woman, and when her answers were unsatisfactory, he pushed past her. The walls of the room fell, and suddenly he was _running. _He found himself in the heart of New York, surrounded by people, strange lights, and the honking of cars.

"At ease, Soldier," came a voice from among the crowd. Standing there was a black man wearing an eyepatch, his long black cloak intimidating. Steve breathed harshly, looking around as his mind whirred.

"You going to be all right, son?" The man asked.

"Yeah...I just had a date."

Steve found himself in a safe house the next day. It was in the middle of nowhere, next to a lake. He was handed a series of files, all that remained of his past life. Nearly every file had a large "Deceased" stamp across the top, and he trembled as he processed that his friends, his _team_ were no more. Pulling out his compass, his eyes flickered across Peggy's beautiful face, before he turned the image to reveal Bucky.

Heavy sobs wracked his body for a long time, until he stood and began tearing the place apart. The resounding crashes of everything he threw or ripped apart gave him a grim sort of satisfaction. It was only once he broke the coffee table in half that he became aware of how _loud_ his heartbeat throbbed in his ears, how crazy he felt. He collapsed onto the bed, the only remaining furniture not destroyed, and screamed into the pillow. Afterwards, he fell into a fitful sleep, wracked by the repeated scene of Bucky falling and his own crash into the ocean. When he awoke, his head remained heavy with thoughts of Bucky.

_If I survived crashing into the ocean, I probably could have survived jumping after Bucky._

That train of thought remained with him for the rest of the day, even as he laced up a pair of running shoes and jogged around the lake. He was under strict orders to not breach the fences surrounding the area, and automatically avoided them.

When he returned to the ruined cabin, he made his way to the shower. The water was as hot as he could make it, and it was only after it began to run cold that Steve noticed the deep scratches he had clawed into the skin of his arms. Numbly, he covered the injuries with some bandages before collecting the different pieces he had destroyed, throwing them onto the porch.

Steve grabbed his sketchbook and sat cross legged on the rug in the middle of the room. He began to draw, letting his mind wander again. The hours passed, and it wasn't until the room was cast in deep shadows that he finally stopped. Stretching, he looked over the drawings.

Bucky was featured in most of them, in various emotions and positions. A few of the Howling Commandos made an appearance, as well as Peggy with a small smile. He stopped short at a particular image, which depicted the train in which Bucky had fallen, complete with the raging snowstorm and Steve himself decked out in his uniform, desperately clutching at air.

Steve gripped the kitchen island tightly, barely noticing the damage it was doing to his hands as his breathing quickened. The room spun, and he tried focusing on the clenching of his hands before he sat heavily onto the floor once more. He became aware of the hollowness in his body, and briefly looked towards the cabinets where food was stocked, before lifting up off the floor sluggishly and pouring himself a glass of water. He downed it in seconds. Filling it again, he made his way to the bed and placed the cup onto the floor next to it.

Steve stared at the wall for a few minutes, before laying down on top of the bed and curling into himself. He did not cry again, but his breathing was harsh as he began counting. He hit one hundred when he finally knew no more.

Steve learned how to numb his feelings as the week went by, and gradually began eating again. After a few days of nothing but water, he hadn't had the energy to run anymore, which put him on edge. He made sure to eat at least a couple times a day, even though everything tasted like sawdust. At the end of two weeks, a SHIELD agent arrived at the cabin to take him to an apartment in New York.

Steve put on a show, to ease any worries the agent would have had about his solitary adjustment period, when all Steve felt was a deep burning anger that he had been alone the entire time. He pulled out a notebook when the agent began listing some of his favorite movies and foods that were different than Steve's time.

The apartment they provided to him wasn't flashy or expensive, but was fully furnished. It was a few blocks from a boxing gym, which Steve fully intended to utilize. He quickly settled into a new routine, similar to the one he had while at the cabin. The key difference was in the amount of people he was forced to interact with on a daily basis. He was generally a nice person, and liked to reflect that whenever around others, but the toll of being pleasant was high. It was a relief when he was able to return to his apartment, bare as it was.

Director Fury approached Steve as he pounded on his fourth punching bag of the day. His knuckles had bled through the wrappings he had on twice, and he had redressed them shortly before the other man appeared. As Fury told Steve about the Tesseract, the super soldier beat into the bag so hard that it went flying once more.

When Steve returned to his apartment to pack the few things he would need for the mission, he found himself staring at Bucky's picture for several minutes.

"It was all for nothing, Buck. Red Skull's gone, but the Tesseract remains. Guess I gotta go fix things again." He sighed heavily. _I wish you were here._

The helicarrier was the most fantastic thing Steve had ever seen. As he stood on the bridge next to Fury, the prevailing thought running through his mind was _Bucky would have loved this._ After the events of Germany, he was officially introduced to Tony Stark, who only vaguely reminded Steve of Howard. The two shared eccentricy and love a of inventions, but Steve was immediately combative with Tony because of his care-free attitude and vanity.

"Everything special about you came from a bottle," Stark sneered. Steve's glare heightened in intensity as he set his jaw firmly. He had to restrain himself from strangling the other man, and the only thing that prevented him from doing so was knowing that Stark was the key to the mission.

The mission carried on, ending with the battle in New York. Steve made the tough call to close the wormhole into space despite Tony not returning. As Stark fell from the sky, Steve was briefly seized with panic over losing a teammate, especially one that had gotten his grudging respect as the battle had worn on. When Hulk caught Tony, and then subsequently woke him up, Steve was relieved enough to grace him with a smile.

The months after the Battle of New York were busy for Steve, between clean up and moving into the newly dubbed Avengers Tower. His nightmares continued, though he was able to keep them mostly quiet so as not to alert JARVIS. An AI within the tower was something else that Steve needed to adjust to, and it made him feel even more like the man out of time. The rest of the team tried to teach him, but they were only somewhat successful and eventually grew tired of Steve's incomprehension to references, with Tony in particular spearheading that thinking.

Steve, in turn, isolated himself whenever he could get away with it. Solitary runs, long hours in the gym punching the bag, and drawing in Central Park were a few things he filled his free time with. Only Natasha was able to pull him out, between her own missions for SHIELD. Fury had assigned Steve to D.C. a few times a week, where the Triskelion was located. It was there that he met Sam Wilson nearly two years later.

"On your left," Steve huffed out as he passed another man jogging around the Lincoln Memorial Reflection Pool. His breath was barely strained, but the exertion was enough to make it so he was a tad breathless. Steve passed the man four more times until they stopped behind a nearby tree.

The other man was panting heavily, sweat staining his shirt as Steve approached.

"Man, I need a new set of lungs. You must have run thirteen miles in thirty minutes."

His brown eyes gazed up at Steve with a smile on his face.

"I got a late start," Steve replied.

"Did you take another lap? I'll assume you took another lap." The man chuckled slightly as he finally got his breath back.

"What unit were you in?" Steve had noticed the other man's Military insignia across his shirt.

"Fifty-eighth para-rescue, now I work at the VA office. Sam Wilson." He offered his hand to Steve, who took it to help him up.

"Steve Rogers."

"I kind of put that together. Must have freaked you out after defrosting out of ice."

"Yeah, well, it's an adjustment. Nice to meet you, Sam." Steve turned away, before Sam spoke again.

"It's the bed, right?"

"What's that?" Steve faced him again.

"It's too soft? When I was over there, I slept on the ground with a rock as a pillow. Now I'm home, and my bed's like-"

"Lying on a marshmallow, about to sink right to the floor. How long?"

"Two tours. You must miss the good old days, huh?"

"Well, things aren't too bad. The food's a lot better, we used to boil everything. No polio's good. And the internet is so helpful, been reading that a lot, trying to catch up."

Sam nodded in agreement, before gesticulating passionately about a soundtrack. Steve added it to his list, before pulling out his phone to check the text from Natasha.

"Duty calls. Thanks for the run," Steve said, "If that's what you want to call a run." Sam merely looked affronted as he shook Steve's hand, and moments later Natasha pulled up.

"Do either of you boys know where the Smithsonian is? I'm here to pick up a fossil," her voice rang from the car.

"You're hilarious," Steve commented as he walked towards her. As he settled in the seat, he looked back at Sam.

"Can't run everywhere."

"No, you cannot. How's it going?" Sam asked Natasha, a flirty little smile upon his face. She responded in kind with nod of her head and a "hey."

The car peeled away from the curb into the busy traffic of D.C.

Steve visited Sam a few times at the V.A, though he never participated in the group sessions. Sam took him out to lunch after his first couple of times at the office, and the two became quick friends. _Bucky would like him, even though they'd butt heads like nothing else._ The thought came unbidden when Steve returned to his apartment. He had been thinking of Bucky less as time went by, though each time he did, it caused a new surge of pain.

Steve sunk into a self-deprecation spiral during the rest of that day and into the night, sleeping fitfully as he berated himself for beginning to bounce back despite Bucky being gone.

_He'd want you happy._

**No, he'd want you pining after him forever.**

_He's dead, remember? Why pine after a dead man? You're going to be lonely regardless, he was the one and only for you._

**That's why he'd want you pining after him. He's the only one for you, and trying to move on is stupid. You're stupid. Worthless, piece of shit. Sam probably thinks you're weak. He's taking pity on you. He doesn't care about you.**

_He likes me, and he makes me smile. Only Natasha's been able to do that before, and she's a master manipulator. He's my friend._

**He pities you.**

Steve's grip on his legs grew tighter, as he vaguely wondered how he ended up on the floor next to the couch. He curled into a tighter ball, clutching desperately at his head as the negative thoughts circulated in his brain. He dug his blunt nails into his arms, grunting at the sting it inflicted as he scratched hard enough to draw blood. His breath came harshly as the nails traveled up to his biceps, and he scratched again, to feel something other than the panic bubbling in his chest. It was like he was ninety pounds again, trying to stave off an asthma attack, and he forced himself to stretch out in an attempt to get some air back into his desperate lungs. Bucky's face swam in front of him, and he found himself focusing on that image.

He imagined that Bucky was there with him, holding him tight against his chest. Though the thought was painful, with the sense of longing there so strong Steve could nearly taste it, it was helpful in grounding him.

_"Come on, Stevie. You're strong enough for this. Stay with me. That's it, you've got it, you're safe with me."_ Steve could hear Bucky's calming voice as his hands slowly unclenched from the rivets in his arms. He forced himself to take deep breaths, counting on each exhale, remembering Sam telling him how that helped some of the veterans.

Eventually, Steve came back to himself, walking shakily to the bathroom to shower the blood off of his skin. The cuts were already beginning to heal, and the pain slowly dissipated. Steve almost mourned the loss of the lasting pain, which would have brought contrast to the overwhelming numbness he now felt.

When Steve learned of Project Insight, he supposed it made a warped kind of sense. It wasn't the kind of thinking that he agreed with, since that had led to the events of his creation. But he was not an ignorant nor dumb man, and he could see Fury's opinion on the matter. He was slightly awed in the technology that had been created for it, though in the face of duty and the slight horror of its potential, he didn't let it show on his face.

After Fury's death, he became a fugitive of the law, as sentenced by SHIELD. He found himself working with Natasha, who he only trusted fully once he saved her life from the explosion at Camp Lehigh. He dragged Sam into it as well, who joined willingly enough.

Steve's first encounter with the Winter Soldier was startling, as he had not expected the man to be such a force to be reckoned with. But there was something familiar about him, in the way he walked, and in his voice. Even in the Russian that he spoke, Steve was struck by a familiarity. The two of them danced around each other and exchanged blows, though Steve could tell that he was not the Soldier's target. The soldier countered Steve's shield easily, almost as if they've fought each other before.

During one of the scuffles between the two of them, where the Soldier unleashed rain of bullets towards Natasha, one of which hit her in the shoulder, the Soldier's mask fell.

"Bucky?" Steve's voice was laced with shock. The soldier merely looked at him impassively, though a flicker of something flashed in his eyes before he spoke.

"Who the hell is Bucky?" He aimed another downcut towards Steve's shoulder, blade flashing, while Steve pushed him back. After a few more blows were exchanged, the Soldier retreated, leaving a confused and frustrated Steve behind. Steve helped Natasha in bringing her back to Sam's, though he was lost in thought the entire journey there.

"I'm not going to fight you, Buck."

Steve and the Winter Soldier were on the last of the Helicarriers, staring at each other across the bridge. The Soldier was there to prevent Steve from being successful in taking down Project Insight. True to his word, each blow delivered to Steve was blocked but not countered, until the Soldier overpowered him.

_Come on, Bucky! I __**know**__ you remember me. And I refuse to fight you anymore._

"I'm with you to the end of the line," Steve panted.

"Stop saying that!" the Soldier yelled, taking Steve's shield and bringing it down upon the blond's body. Steve went flying towards the floor of the helicarrier. He had managed to replace the drive, so gave Agent Hill the go ahead to launch the code. He ignored Hill's concern over the comms, before being punched repeatedly by the Soldier. It wasn't until Steve was completely battered and nearly unconscious that he saw a flash of recognition within the Soldier, but by that point the world around them exploded and they were falling.

Steve was vaguely aware of the water rushing onto his body as he hit the lake. His vision blackened around the edges, accepting his death once more. And then, as if in a dream, he felt the solid grip of being dragged from the water. He saw the Soldier's retreating form briefly before he fell unconscious.

"Steve." Natasha's voice was soft, but did nothing to bring him out of his thoughts. There were papers scattered everywhere in his living room, and he currently had his head in his hands. He hadn't heard her enter, despite JARVIS's announcement. Once Steve had learned that Bucky was alive, he became obsessed with trying to locate him.

"Steve," she called again, a little louder. Steve looked up at Natasha blearily, before looking past her.

"You're not going to be able to find him if he doesn't want to be found. He was trained by HYDRA, remember?"

"Doesn't mean I'm going to stop. He's my best friend, Natasha."

"And that won't be any less true once you start taking care of yourself again. When's the last time you ate? Or showered?" Her nose wrinkled as she caught scent of him.

Steve's brows furrowed for a moment before he sighed heavily. Pulling himself up, he shuffled past her towards his dresser, searching for clean clothes.

"All right, I'll shower. Did you need me for something?"

Natasha searched his face for a few heartbeats, before she gave him a small smile.

"Nope. Just checking on my friend. Tony ordered pizza, so it should be here by the time you're done."

"Okay. Thanks."

He watched her retreating form as the door clicked shut, before making his way into the bathroom. As the water streamed down his chest, he was plagued by thoughts of the Bucky he had encountered in this time, the phrase '_Who the hell is Bucky?'_ on repeat in that blank voice. It was Bucky's voice, but it was _wrong_ to Steve's ears, especially once his mind decided to twist it. It wasn't until JARVIS's voice rang out that Steve noticed that he had been rubbing his skin raw with the loofa.

"Sir wanted me to inform you that the pizza has arrived, Captain."

"Thank you, JARVIS. I'll be there in a few minutes."

He winced when he found that the loofa wasn't the only thing that had been rubbing the skin of his chest, but his nails as well. _I really need to stop doing that. __**Why shouldn't you suffer? He clearly did.**_

Steve shook his head in an attempt to clear the thoughts away. He couldn't afford having Natasha returning and seeing him like that. As he dried himself off, he marveled yet again at how quickly he could heal. The scratches had already begun fading, and the fact that it had been centered on his chest and abdomen instead of his arms meant that he could hide it with a shirt.

Steve had managed to put the search for Bucky on the back burner of his mind. Between the missions that Director Fury assigned to them and team bonding activities, he had plenty to keep him occupied. He grew closer to Natasha, though was careful to keep it friendly rather than attempt a romantic relationship. She seemed more than all right with that, though flirtations were a part of her personality.

Tony was still a pain in the ass as far as Steve was concerned, but he learned that there was more to the billionaire than met the eye. Especially once he walked in on Tony engaged in a compromising position with another man. Steve had merely blushed before ducking out of the room with a murmured apology and the sounds that he should have heard from the beginning resumed.

"I'm surprised you haven't made a big deal of what happened yesterday, Capsicle," Tony commented as he grabbed a cup of coffee.

"Why is that? I should have been paying more attention to where I was going. Or you should have engaged in those activities in a less common area."

Tony tilted his head inquisitively, oddly pensive as he asked,"You're really not bothered by it other than that?"

Steve clasped his fingers around his own mug as he thought of how to answer.

"No. I'm not the blushing virgin you believe me to be, though I would have preferred to not walk in on that. I saw more of you than I've ever wanted to."

"Aw, come on Cap, surely you don't mean that. Everyone wants an eyeful of me at some point."

Steve glared in response, and Tony chuckled as he propped his hip against the counter. It was quiet for a few minutes, and Steve could feel that Tony was waiting for something, though was unsure what.

"Is it acceptable these days? A relationship with two of the same sex?" Steve's voice was soft, and he was afraid the question would have been swallowed by the air. Instead of making a joke as expected, Tony's voice was equally soft.

"It depends on where you are in the world. Here, in New York, it's pretty commonplace, if you know where to look. I've never really given a damn about who I have sex with, as long as it's fun, but I know not everyone shares that ideal. So I never give details about who I sleep with. It's come a long way since your time, Cap."

"Sounds like it. That's...good. Really good."

Tony hummed in agreement before tentatively asking the question that had been burning in his mind for a few days.

"What about you? What do you think about those sort of relationships?"

"Love is love. If it's meant to be, it doesn't matter who it's with. I may never get used to your casual opinion of bedding multiple partners, but for me...there will only hopefully be one."

"Yeah. Pep makes me feel like there's hope for that, if she'd have me back again. It never seems like the timing is right." Tony shook his head before moving away from his slight perch on the counter, patting Steve's shoulder as he muttered about retreating to the lab once more. They had recently obtained Loki's Septer back from HYDRA, and Tony had been spending the better part of a week working on analyzing it.

There was a party that night, and Thor had brought some special drink from Asgard that allowed Steve to get drunk, if he wanted. Steve relaxed under the unfamiliar feeling of lightness, but shook his head when offered another shot of the strange mead. The dark thoughts were beginning to make themselves known again, and he was doing his best to quell them. Getting drunk would not help.

As he was challenged to lift Thor's hammer, he was surprised when he felt the lightness of it in his hand. There was a little resistance, which is what caused the slight wiggle, but Steve did not lift it fully, knowing the circumstances of the bet. Instead he gave a broad smile as he laughed off the fact that he wasn't able to lift it either.

Then, everything changed when Ultron attacked.

After Ultron's defeat, the Maxinoff twins and Vision were tentatively allowed to live with the Avengers. Tony, or rather Pepper, had the foresight to get Tony's team of lawyers involved since the two teenagers were not American citizens. Tony also revealed that he had made a new compound fo r the Avengers upstate, to accommodate their growing team.

At Steve's suggestion, Tony began making arrangements to make the Avengers their own separate entity, without relying on the government to function. With Steve's strategic thinking and Tony's problem solving skills, they managed to make that into written proposal within a year, coordinating with different countries to ensure they had accountability. The document was known as the Sokovia Accords.

Tony and Pepper got back together, since they had worked out that Tony would always be Iron Man, and the Accords helped ease Tony's sense of responsibility to fund and maintain the background functions of the team. As time went by, the Accords were amended and changed so that there would be some oversight to the team, yet in an emergency situation they would be able to act without approval.

Pietro and Wanda's resentment towards Tony faded as they were trained with the team, with Vision acting as a liaison of sorts between the three. Pietro had barely survived the bullets, and if it weren't for his ability to phase through solid objects, Wanda would have been broken with his death. Clint spent some time with each of the twins, bringing them back to his family to give them a much needed sense of normalcy. He and Laura eventually adopted them, to the amusement of the rest of the team.

Steve began his search for Bucky once again, and only Natasha knew the depths he went to obtain information. There was finally a clue one day, a week before the official signing of the finalized Accords. _Buchacrest._ The name repeated in Steve's mind as he sat in the back of the Quinjet. Natasha had graciously offered him a ride before she made her way to a short mission in Italy, knowing how important it was to him to find Bucky. After a few words of caution to her friend, Steve disembarked from the jet, dressed in his brown leather jacket and a pair of aviators. His shield was strapped to his back, but it was encased in a special case for discretion's sake.

Steve began wandering the streets, though since he didn't speak or understand a bit of Romanian, he had no sense of direction. It took him a few hours, but he finally spotted Bucky. Steve watched as his friend scanned the streets cautiously, though a lot less menacingly as he did in D.C., as he approached a fruit stand to purchase some plums. When he smiled, however fleetingly, Steve's face lit up with one of his own, though he tried desperately to tamp down on his excitement, lest it make him stick out.

Too late, Steve realized that Bucky was on the move again, and he mentally cursed as he followed the other man, keeping to the crowds. Though he wasn't wearing his uniform, he still didn't look the same as the population around him with his blond hair and generally large build. As he turned the corner towards an alley, he was met with a blade to the face, pushed back against the wall with a strong arm. _The human one. Interesting, he doesn't want to kill me yet._

"De ce mă urmărești?" The voice was quiet, yet still threatening, and Steve's spine tingled with the danger of it. Though he didn't understand the words, Steve figured that it was something along the lines of 'Why are you following me' or 'Who are you?'

"Looking for you," Steve replied with a gasp, taking a chance at which question had been asked. Bucky's eyes searched Steve's face for a few seconds. Steve had removed the sunglasses a while ago, since they were not needed in the dreary weather. Bucky's jaw tightened, before he lowered the knife and loosened his arm across Steve's chest.

"You shouldn't have come." He abruptly walked away, and Steve scrambled to follow after him. They ended up walking side by side, and though Steve yearned to touch the other man, he did not dare. He didn't know how much Bucky remembered, or if the touch would be welcomed. Bucky barely acknowledged Steve, but made no move or comment to discourage him from following. Bucky led Steve to his apartment, hesitating slightly as he pushed open the door. It was a simple room, with a mattress pushed against one wall and a small kitchen to the left. There was a window directly opposite the door, and Steve could see it led to a roof. _Making sure there's always an escape route. Smart._

Bucky placed the paper bag that he had been carrying onto the table, pulling the items out and setting them on the counter. He washed a couple of plums, before wordlessly offering one to Steve. Steve smiled softly as he took it, intentionally brushing his fingers against the other man's. Bucky didn't flinch, but his eyes darted up to Steve's briefly before he leaned against the counter. It gave s low whine in protest.

Steve wanted to reach out to Bucky and hold him tight, but he wasn't the one who had been brainwashed so he refrained. Instead, he took a bite of the plum while observing the changes in his friend. Bucky was still the same large muscled man he was as the Soldier, but the layers of civilian clothing made him look softer. He was still sporting the long hair, and his face was grizzled with stubble. _I wonder what that would feel like_. Steve's brain short circuited briefly before he shifted slightly. Bucky's eyes traced his movement, face curiously blank.

"Since you haven't kicked me out, I'm guessing you remember me?" Steve asked cautiously. The silence was beginning to get to him. After living in the city for as long as he had, silence made him nervous, unless he was on a mission. _This was supposed to be a mission._

_"_You're Steve. My best friend..." Bucky's eyebrows furrowed as he tried to remember something. "My...fella?" His face was blank as ever, but his eyes were expressing all of the confusion he was feeling before he took a breath and raised them to Steve's.

"Yeah, Buck. Til the end of the line."

"Til the end of the line," he echoed, hollowly. "I'm not the same."

"I know. But we can figure it out. Whatever you need, I'll be here."

Bucky's eyes remained fixed on Steve's face, silent once more. Steve waited patiently, resisting the urge to fidget.

"Don't move."

Bucky took two steps forward, until he was right in front of Steve, and raised his flesh hand. Gently, he cupped Steve's left cheek and brushed his fingertips across the soft skin. Steve unconsciously leaned into the touch, breath stuttering slightly. He nearly vibrated with the need to touch Bucky in return, but refrained. Slowly, Bucky brought his other hand up and carefully placed it onto Steve's right cheek, framing the face completely.

Bucky's entire face softened slightly the longer he watched Steve relax into the embrace, and when he felt Steve's hands land on his hips tentatively, he smiled.

"Thought I said not to move, punk." Steve huffed out a laugh.

"Couldn't help myself, you're finally here."

Bucky watched Steve for a moment longer, still stroking his cheeks with his hands, and marveled at how the blond didn't shy away from the metal fingers. In fact, he had never seen someone look so content to stand there doing nothing but share space. Bucky tentatively leaned forward and brushed his lips against Steve's, who immediately reciprocated. They kissed slowly as Bucky's hands moved to Steve's neck and Steve pulled Bucky closer. After a few moments, they parted. Steve's eyes slowly opened and a soft smile graced his lips as he leaned his forehead against Bucky's.

They both flinched when Steve's phone suddenly beeped with an incoming text. Bucky coiled, prepared to strike, though he did not pull away from Steve. When nothing further happened, he strode across the small apartment to the bed, checking the perimeter. Steve fished the phone out of his pocket, seeing that the text was from Natasha.

_Successful? ;)_

**Yes. Please don't contact me again unless it's an emergency, Nat.**

Her reply was nearly instant.

_As you wish. _She included a pic of Wes from Princess Bride, which they had watched together the previous week. _Call if there's trouble. Be careful._

Steve pocketed his phone again before turning to Bucky. He was still incredibly tense, and a knife was drawn as Steve slowly approached. Bucky's eyes were slightly frantic as they took in Steve's form, seemingly sizing him up. After another minute, he relaxed again, placing the blade on the table next to the foot of the bed.

"It was my friend checking up on me. You remember her? Natasha."

"Natalia?" Bucky's voice was hoarse, eyes lost in memory before looking up at Steve carefully.

"I shot her...when you first called me by name. Is she-"

"She's fine, Bucky. On a mission, currently, fighting as always. You knew her before?"

Bucky nodded, jaw tensing as he flexed and relaxed his hands repeatedly. Steve gently sat on the bed next to the other man, hesitantly reaching for his back. Bucky tensed at his first touch, and gradually relaxed the longer Steve stroked. Eventually, as the light faded into darkness, Steve guided the other man to lay atop him on the tiny bed, being careful not to hold tightly as they fell asleep.

The next few days were filled with Steve and Bucky getting reacquainted with each other. Bucky frequently pulled a knife on Steve if he moved too quickly, or did something suddenly, but slowly became used to having his friend near. Night time was challenging, as they both suffered from nightmares even among each other's embrace. When Steve dreampt, it was plagued with thoughts of not being good enough, or waking up in the middle of being frozen, or the Chitari invading again. Bucky dreamed of each target he had killed, sometimes their screaming as buildings burned behind him, the acrid smell of ash lingering even as he woke and the torture he had endured with each wipe of his brain. He forgot small things, like how to shave or how to properly tie shoes since he hadn't needed shoes with laces in years. Steve patiently helped him without complaint, and they learned to trust each other again.

A couple of days before Steve was expected to be at the Accords signing in D.C., his phone rang. Bucky tensed, expecting an attack as Steve brought the phone to his ear. Predictably, it was Natasha, and Bucky could hear the feminine lilt of her voice through the earpiece. Steve's face fell as he closed his eyes resignedly, tilting his head back as Natasha provided him some more information.

"Can I call you back in a bit?" At Natasha's confirmation, Steve said his goodbyes before slumping over in the chair, head falling to his hands with a sigh. Bucky watched him for a moment, placing the plates of food onto the table with a thunk.

"Peggy's gone, Buck. Passed in her sleep."

The two had reminisced about the Commandos and Peggy in one of the more lighthearted moments, and Bucky nodded his head in understanding before he processed what that meant. He sat heavily and reached for Steve's hand, the small act of comfort bringing a smile to Steve's face.

"When's the funeral?"

"In two days, in London. Natasha offered to pick me up, but I don't want to leave you. I only just got you back, Buck."

The two were quiet for a few moments. Bucky began eating slowly. Steve followed momentarily, mind swimming in memories when Bucky spoke.

"I could go with you..."

"What?" Steve froze, food falling from his fork as he gaped briefly at his friend.

"To the funeral. It will be...hard...being around other people. But I think I can do it. Peggy deserves a proper goodbye from us."

"Are you sure?"

"No, but I'll do it anyways. Just...stay close. And can you get me a suit?"

"Yeah...I can do that. Are you all right with Natasha getting us?"

"What other option is there? Unless you wanna drive. I can probably get us a car or something."

"Driving works, if that will make you feel comfortable. We can work out the details after dinner."

Bucky nodded before returning to his food. He pretended not to see the small yet proud smile that graced Steve's lips.

"I forgot how good you look in a suit, Buck." Bucky glanced up at Steve from tying his tie in their hotel room in London, giving up when his hands continued to shake. Steve stood in front of him to tie the proper knot, gently brushing his fingers along Bucky's lapel as he did so, pretending not to notice Bucky's slight change in breathing. When he was finished, he leaned down for a kiss, which Bucky reciprocated eagerly. There was a containment within it, though, that allowed the two to pull apart after a moment.

"Think the hair's all right?" Bucky asked tentatively. It was pulled up in a bun, leaving a few tendrils behind to frame his face. It had been cut a bit, choppily, by Steve when they stopped to rest in Germany. His face was also clear of stubble, leaving him looking like a completely different man than the Soldier.

"It's perfect." Steve lightly kissed him again before tending to his own tie. Bucky wrapped his arms around the other man, squeezing a little bit as Steve finished up. When he stepped back, Steve gently took Bucky's gloved hands again, looking into his eyes.

"You can do this, Bucky. I'll be here the entire time. I invited another one of my friends to come, Sam. You remember me telling you about him?"

Bucky nodded, eyes fixated to Steve's face.

"Is...Tony coming?" His voice was hesitant as he stumbled over the name. He almost named Howard instead.

"I don't know, actually. Maybe. Natasha will be there, though she'll be late."

"There's something else happening today, isn't there?"

"Yeah. The signing of the Sokovia Accords, in Vienna."

"Didn't you already sign those?"

"Yes, that's why we made the stop on our way here."

"Would I...have to sign?"

Steve sighed softly, looking past Bucky's head as he began gathering his things.

"I don't know. You weren't in control for the things you did. And you being alive is still something not many know about. I've been meaning to talk to Tony about it, or maybe one of his lawyers, but I've been selfish about wanting time with you first."

"I'm damaged, Steve. You know that. Maybe I deserve to be locked up."

"No, never locked up. Not as long as I live. And we can work with the damage, if you want. For now, let's just go to the funeral and pay our respects to Peggy, all right?"

Bucky nodded, trailing after Steve as they made their way down to the funeral service. He dared not touch Steve, though he desperately wanted to. He was unable to help how his eyes scanned the room for potential threats, fingers itching to draw the knife he had strapped to his back.

As Sharon Carter gave her speech, Bucky's jaw was tight, flashes of memory flicking through his brain. Steve's gaze remained fixed on Sharon, slightly hurt that she had never mentioned being related to Peggy but not unaware of Bucky's tension being among so many people. After the service, Bucky pushed to the back of the crowd, uncaring of the people he dislodged in the process, ending up by the wall with his forehead pushed against the slightly cool surface. Steve let him go, but remained within sight so he'd be there when Bucky was ready. Sharon approached, tentatively stopping in front of Steve.

"So, you were Peggy's-"

"Grand niece. Yeah. You understand why I couldn't tell you?"

"Yes. Of course. You were afraid I'd treat you differently. I wouldn't have, by the way. Peggy was-" He broke off as his jaw tightened.

"Wonderful. She spoke the world of you, you know. Until her memory began failing."

"Good. That's good." He awkwardly cleared his throat, casting a glance towards Bucky, who was standing with his back to the wall, scowling at the two of them. Steve gave a snort of amusement, and Sharon's curious gaze followed to the other man, taking in Bucky's aggressive stance.

"You know him?"

"Yeah. He's not great in crowds, these days. I should get back to him. See you later?"

Sharon nodded, making her way to the elevators while Steve sidled up to Bucky with a soft smile on his face.

"Aren't you supposed to be crying?" Bucky retorted. His own face was curiously blank.

"I did my crying for Peggy long ago. It'll probably hit me again later, but right now...I'm sort of numb."

Bucky looked past Steve towards an approaching Natasha.

"Aren't you supposed to be in Vienna?" Steve asked, turning towards her, keeping himself between her and Bucky.

"I'm heading there after this. I didn't think you'd want to be alone."

"I'm good, Natasha." He stepped sideways a bit so that she could see Bucky lurking behind him.

"So I see." She placed her hand on Steve's shoulder. "Call if something happens. You may have signed the Accords already, but it's not over yet. Be careful, and remain in sight."

"You think something's going to happen?" Both men tensed at her words, Bucky more so than Steve.

"Prepare for everything. You should know that by know, Rogers." She reaching up to kiss him on the cheek before sauntering away in her typical manner. Bucky looked after her with his eyes slightly narrowed, before speaking.

"There's a wake or something upstairs, right?"

"Yeah. You want to go?"

"Not really. But we should."

Steve nodded, leading the way upstairs.

Steve and Bucky returned to New York after Peggy's funeral, with Tony sending a private jet piloted by Clint. Clint evidently made Bucky a bit twitchy, so the flight back was extremely tense. They were mid-flight when Steve got the call from Natasha about the bombing. T'Chaka had taken the brunt of the force, since the bomb had detonated directly below his feet, but Wanda's quick thinking contained the damage from the building enough that T'Chaka survived. He unfortunately was knocked into a pretty severe coma, which in Wakanda meant that T'Challa would be required to take up the mantle of king for as long as his father was indisposed.

Months of investigation and trials on Bucky's behalf led the public and the law to conclude that he was not at fault for the things he had done under the control of the Winter Soldier. Wakanda opened up its borders after T'Chaka passed away, unable to heal from the explosion despite their superior medical technology due to his old age. T'Challa heard about Bucky's memory and trigger issues, offering their services to heal him with experimental technology.

The weeks that Steve was apart from Bucky was exceedingly difficult. Tony attempted to distract him, unintentionally creating a slime monster that kept the team busy for a while, but Steve still ended up in long sessions at the punching bag or running for miles. Even knowing that Bucky would be all right at the end, since he trusted Shuri and T'Challa, every few hours he'd be plagued by thoughts of the worst possible things happening. It got to the point of him scratching desperately at his skin, trying to claw the evil thoughts out of his brain.

"What happened to you?" Bruce Banner asked, blinking up at Steve as he entered the lab. Steve's skin was littered with deep scratches, which were already healing but not fast enough to be un-noticed. Bruce had called Steve down because of a new discovery, but was second guessing that choice when he caught sight of the state of the Captain.

"Nothing relevant. What did you need to show me?" Steve pointedly looked anywhere but the doctor's face.

"I was doing research on both yours and Bucky's metabolic rates, trying to figure out if it could be replicated with various methods, as has been attempted for years. And I discovered something present in Bucky's blood, but not yours." He gestured to the screen, where a smattering of blood cells could be seen.

"What am I looking at, doctor?"

"Your blood sample is on the left. What differences do you see?"

Steve looked at both samples for a few moments before responding.

"I don't see a difference."

"Exactly!" Bruce was energetic as he waited for Steve to put it together. Steve's skin was still pricking rather painfully and was unable to focus properly, especially when he couldn't figure out what the doctor was implying.

"HYDRA managed to mostly replicate Erkinsine's serum, in Bucky. But only with him, because of how the formula adhered to his genetic makeup. Which means that if he has children, they'll be gifted, like him, though each generation will be less so. Unlike your children, which will not be gifted."

"How is that a good thing, exactly?"

"I never said it was a good thing. I'm only trying to pass along information to you, Cap."

"All right. Thank you. Anything else?"

Bruce blinked owlishly for a second.

"No. No, there's nothing else. Are you ok, Steve? You're acting a bit odd."

"I'm fine, Bruce. I appreciate your concern. Have a good day."

Steve gave a hollow smile before he left the lab, leaving a confused Doctor Banner behind.

_You'll never be good enough for him._

Steve smacked the punching bag with more force than necessary, causing the bag to swing precariously backwards until it rebounded to him. He punched it again, keeping up a regular sequence.

_He'll be fixed, and you'll always be half the man he deserves. You aren't worth it. Ugly, angry, pathetic._

The punches increased in intensity as the thoughts swirled again, and his gaze was drawn to the blades that Natasha had hung for her sparring sessions with Clint.

_What's a bit of pain? It won't last. It never does._

He made his way over to the knives, picking one up and testing the weight in his palm, before slashing up against a metal frame set up for the purpose. His movements increased in speed until one went too far and he cut into his forearm. He hardly noticed the pain as he continued, blood spattering loosely on the floor with each slash. He paused, staring at the blood soaked blade in his hand. Breathing harshly through his mouth, he brought the steel to his other palm, pricking it slightly and tilting his head curiously as it healed. He scoffed before dropping the knife to the floor carelessly as he returned to the bag, heedless of the blood still dripping onto the floor. When the knife he had dropped cut into his foot as he stepped back, he was lost to the sensation of the punches landing that he didn't notice until glancing down. The steel glinted under the blood, mocking him to coat it again in red.

_How will it feel against my arms? Will I finally feel _**something**_?_

Without thought he slit the blade across the skin of his left bicep, relishing in the sting of pain that surged through him. He cut a few more times, ripping into his shirt as he sunk to the floor, dragging the blade across his chest as he felt the skin beginning to stitch back together already on his bicep. He closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of the stinging, the voices blessedly silent for once.

"Captain Rogers?" FRIDAY's voice cut through the pleasant fog of his head.

He grunted in acknowledgment, unable to form a complete word, though in the back of his mind he knew that was wrong. He drew the blade forward again, wanting more of the pain as his vision began to darken around the edges. He cut meticulously along his legs and arms, relishing in the sharpness of the blade as it glided easily into his skin. Dazedly, he became aware of voices coming from behind him but made no move to greet them. When he felt the blade being taken from his grasp, however, he lashed out and began to struggle. The sting of the cuts increased with every movement so he thrashed more, fighting off whomever or whatever was trying to take the knife from him. There was a sharp blow to his head and his vision went dark.

The first thing Steve became aware of was the incessant beeping. His eyes fluttered open, taking in the sight of Bucky's head pillowed on his arms, splaying around onto the bed carelessly. Steve watched the rise and fall of Bucky's back, assured that he was breathing before his eyes tracked around the room.

Strangely, he wasn't able to move his neck due to a hard pressure against the sides of his head. The room was decorated like a typical hospital room, with the only splash of color a vase of yellow daffodils sitting on the table next to the door. There were monitoring trinkets on Steve's fingers, and he frowned when he realized he was handcuffed to the bed with cuffs Tony had designed to hold his strength. Steve's throat felt like sandpaper, and he cleared his throat as quietly as he could, not wanting to wake Bucky. The other man, however, jolted awake as soon as the sound carried through the room, hands twitching immediately before his eyes settled on Steve's form. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, as if he'd been crying.

"Steve?" Bucky's voice was soft as the manic dissipated.

He seemed much lighter than the last time Steve had seen him, despite the red eyes, and Steve realized it must mean that the chamber had been successful. Steve nodded, unable to speak, licking his lips slightly. Bucky grabbed a cup of water with a straw that was sitting next to Steve, bringing it to the blonde man's lips. Steve drank greedily, remembering at the last moment to not drink too quickly. Bucky's fingers trailed over Steve's jaw briefly before he drew away, and Steve's breath caught at the small gesture, amazed at the amount of affection in his boyfriend's gaze.

"What happened?" Stave asked. He began flexing different parts of his body in an attempt to figure out if he had been severely injured.

"What do you remember?" Bucky's voice was quiet, yet carefully free of emotion.

"I was training…" Steve trailed off as the memories returned. His face heated in shame as he avoided Bucky's gaze, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

"Steve…why did you do it? Wanda checked to make sure you weren't magically manipulated into it, which means you did it of your own accord. Why?"

It was painfully silent as Steve choked down the impeding panic attack. His hands thrashed against the bonds and he growled in frustration at the lack of mobility. He closed his eyes as he became more aware of Bucky's presence, trying his best to pull away from the other man. Bucky's fingers firmly settled on his chest, trailing upwards to cup his jaw.

"I'm not mad, Stevie. Please calm down."

His voice was wrecked, and Steve's eyes flicked open to see Bucky's expressive eyes pleading with him. Steve wasn't able to fully calm down with that alone, and instead Bucky began instructing him to breathe, guiding him down from the panic attack. When Steve was calm again, his thoughts began wandering back to the question, eyes distant as he stared at the wall across from him.

"You alright, Buck?" Steve's voice was forcefully light.

"I'm fine, Steve. No triggers anymore. And I'm not letting you avoid the question, though I'm sure you want to. You've got that stubborn set to your jaw that your ma gave you."

Steve swallowed, making his eyes return to Bucky's face for a few moments before he spoke again.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Too damn bad. You've got to give me something, Steve. Even if it's that you were high off of some shit Stark gave you."

"Is that really something being said?" Steve scoffed. "I'd never take anything suspicious Tony gave me. Any chance I can get these off?" Steve pulled at the restraints.

"Not until we know whether it's an external force. Hey, don't look at me like that, they're not my words."

Steve sighed heavily, wrinkling his nose with a sudden itch. Bucky smirked slightly before reaching over to scratch it.

"Nothing happened. I had a training accident, the knife slipped." The words weren't convincing, even to Steve's own ears.

"Cutting yourself repeatedly with a blissed out look is not a training accident, Steve. I saw the video."

Steve could feel the revulsion of his own inadequacy rising up in his throat and he swallowed heavily to tamp it down. His eyes avoided Bucky's penetrating gaze, ignoring the gentle hand upon his arm. A part of Steve was expecting a reprimand any moment, and minutely tensed when his heartbeat reflected that.

"Steve. I just want to know what happened. You're not in trouble, and the fact you're even thinking that means I did something wrong."

"No," Steve immediately protested. "You didn't do anything wrong, Bucky."

"Then what is it? Why were you cutting yourself?"

"Because…nothing else helped. I claw at my skin, and it heals in an hour. I wreck my hands punching the bag for hours on end, nothing shows the next day."

"Why do you need to hurt yourself?"

"I needed to feel something." Steve's voice was a whisper as his eyes slid shut, unable to face the disappointment he was sure he'd see on his boyfriend's face.

"Don't you feel this?" Bucky's fingers were tracing Steve's arm reassuringly, and Steve flinched, wanting to pull away but unable to. Bucky stopped at the movement, his pained expression unseen behind Steve's eyelids.

"I don't deserve it." Steve's voice had turned bitter, even amongst the whisper.

"You deserve everything, Steve. Without you, I wouldn't be here. _We _wouldn't be here. Open your eyes, Stevie. I want to see those gorgeous blues."

Steve's eyes flickered open, unable to deny Bucky's request.

"You think you don't deserve me?" At Steve's mute nod, Bucky's face twisted a bit into a scowl before he shook his head in disbelief. "And here I was, thinking the same about you. In Romania, I was _terrified _you'd leave me and my broken ass behind. But no, you stayed, patiently working through our nightmares and me trying to kill you almost nightly."

"I had you back. I would do anything to keep you from leaving me again."

"And you almost left me permanently with this stunt you pulled, Stevie. Do you realize how it felt coming out of that chamber, lighter than I've been in years, only to hear my boyfriend was in the hospital? Of course I came, but you kept fighting the doctors every time you'd wake up, screaming from pain no one could see. You only stopped if I touched you, talked to you."

Bucky's voice cracked near the end, tears pricking at the edges of his eyes. His head shot up when he felt Steve's hands on his face, burrowing into Steve's shoulder. He didn't cry, but he was shaking slightly while Steve's fingers traced through his hair lightly. Steve looked slightly to his left, where Tony stood holding the remote to the restraints. Tony nodded briefly before leaving the room again to give them privacy.

"Buck-" Steve pushed Bucky away so that he could see his face, adjusting so that he was sitting as close to the edge of the bed as possible, wincing at the slight pull of the catheter.

"I'm being a girl," Bucky grumbled.

"Nothing wrong with that, sometimes." Steve felt the twinges of a smile creeping on his face as he leaned forward to breathe in Bucky's scent. They didn't speak for a few beats, the only sound coming from the heart monitor.

"When I...woke up from the ice and realized I could have saved you from the train? I couldn't sleep for weeks. I was alone, and sometimes clawing at my skin was the only way I felt free. Told myself to stop, near the end of my confinement." He chuckled humorously for a second, shaking his head. "And then aliens attacked. God, I'm such a wreck, Buck."

Steve pulled away, thunking his head back onto his pillow and looking up at the ceiling. He felt Bucky's hands entwine in his again, and his eyes slid down to Bucky's face.

"We'll be wrecks together, then. Tony...he recommended a therapist, for me. Even though my triggers are gone, I still remember everyone I've killed and that's messed me up. If you want...we could go together?" When Steve seemed hesitant, he added, "It will help me if you come. You're one of the few who loves me knowing what I've done, the horror these hands have wrought." He held up his hands, one human and one metal, scowling at them as if they'd strike out at him.

"If it'll help you...I'll go."

"That's all I ask. I hope they can help you too, eventually. How about we get a doctor in here to clear you so we can get out of here? There's a new diner down the road I want to try."

"Always thinking about food, huh?"

"Can you blame me? Worrying about your sorry ass makes me lose my appetite. Stevie?"

"Yeah, Buck?"

"I'm with you to the end of the line. No matter where we go."

"I love you, Bucky."

"I love you, too, Steve. I'm going to go get a doctor. Don't move til I get back." He kissed Steve lightly on the lips before he left, causing a small smile to grace the blond's lips.

Three years later, Steve and Bucky marry in Vegas, before a wave of robots rains upon them. Their reception is held at the Avengers compound, where it had expanded to include other aspiring Avengers. A favorite wedding gift was Peter Parker's thoughtful collage of the two super-soldiers entwined with the words _"until the end of the line._" This was only rivaled by Tony's gift, which showed a pre-serum Steve atop Bucky's shoulders at the World Fair of 40's, with a mirror image of Bucky being carried bridal style by Steve as they crossed into the archway of Disney World's gate, his metal arm swung over Steve's shoulders with a dopey grin on his face. Underneath was the caption, "_The punk carrying the jerk for eternity."_ Predictably, it was signed with an Iron Man insignia in the corner.


End file.
